Fortune's Vengeance
by Aislinn Graves
Summary: D'Agostino's bid to gain control of Judge Orrin Travis was ruined by Chris Larabee, aka Lobo, and the men of The Seventh. Now he is determined to make them pay and he has pulled out all the stops.
1. Chapter 1

**Notes:**

This is a direct sequel to Fortune's Hostage, if you haven't read that one first, you need to.

Shadowrun is twisted and full of intrigue and misdirection, but keep reading, all will become clear in the end.

Also this story is violent and the boys language is colorful.

Since Shadowrun is set in the future I have endeavored to define some of the more obscure slang and specialized businesses and occupations. Hopefully these will enhance your reading pleasure. Would you prefer to have it before or after the the story?

A huge thank you to my writer's group and betas for all the encouragement while I was writing this.

**Fortune's Vengeance**

**By Aislinn**

**The Year is 2058**

**Magic has returned to the earth. The ancient races of Elves, Dwarfs, Orks and Trolls have re-emerged. Technology has also changed, allowing man to augment his body with artificial enhancements called cyberware. These enhancements can make one faster, stronger and smarter than before.**

**Mega-Corporations have become nations unto themselves while former national powers have reformed. The United States became the United Canadian-American States after the loss of much of the West to the Native American Nations and the South to the Confederate American States and Aztlan. **

**Technology and Magic co-exist in this Awakened World where awesome powers are kept in balance by those who run in the shadow world, those known as Shadowrunners.**

**The street samurai with his smartguns and impossibly fast reflexes; the decker who can plug his own brain into the worldwide computer network, slicing through computer security with programs as elegant and deadly as a stiletto; the rigger who links his mind to his vehicle and takes hairpin turns at fantastic speeds, his machines an extension of his very body; Mages and Shamans manipulate mana to bend the Awakened world and the astral plane to their will.**

**These Shadowrunners don't just live in the shadows- they thrive there... for now.**

_sammy_ ~ slang for street samurai - aka. razor

_SIN_ ~ System Identification Number. all citizens are issued a SIN SINless - one who lives off the grid.

_Humanis_ - one of the most powerful of the policlubs. It grew from an alliance of racist and hate groups aimed at "protecting humans against the rising threat of mutation"—mutation being Humanis-speak for metahumanity.

_metahumanity_ - any of the races other than human - orcs, trolls, elves and dwarves being the most common, but also including ghouls, vampires and the like.

_HUA_ ~ Military slang for Heard, Understood, Acknowledged.

_Dandelion Eater_ ~ street slang for elf. highly insulting

_Troglodyte_ ~ Street slang for orcs and trolls. highly insulting. aka. Trog

_UCASFBI_~ United Canadian and American States Federal Bureau of Investigation - The UCAS Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) is a governmental agency belonging to the UCAS Department of Justice that serves as both a federal criminal investigative body and an internal intelligence agency (counterintelligence).

_Nuyen_- the official currency of the state of Japan. Most common accepted and most well back currency in the Awakened World.

_Treaty City_ ~ AKA Denver - April 25, 2018: The United States of America, Canada, Aztlan, and the Native American Nations ratify the Treaty of Denver. Most of western North America is ceded to the NAN. Daniel Howling Coyote becomes head of the Sovereign Tribal Council. Denver is divided into districts under the jurisdiction of the United States, Aztlan, and the NAN member states.

"_**That which does not kill us, may come back for seconds." ~ Cpl. Jake Jensen , UCAS Army- decker**_

From the back of the dimly lit basement room, Special Agent Jase Sackett studied the assembled men with narrowed eyes. It was a fairly motley crew, but other than a couple of orc samurai, and Jase's elven partner, they were all human. The mob in Denver it seemed, leaned more to the Humanis way of looking at metahumans. Of course they were as hypocritical about it as Humanis was, using them as assets whenever the situation called for it. Regardless of 'purity,' each and every one of these men is a stone cold killer. Harold Fagetti, D'Agostino's chief enforcer now that Louis Carletti had been taken out, had spent considerable time and effort to put together this wet work team to eliminate a rival group of Shadowrunners.

The Seventh, led by a street sammy by the name of Lobo, had angered the local Don and now they were the target of a vendetta that wouldn't stop until one or the other was dead. Jase wasn't surprised when he and his partner, Corrine, had been tapped for the team, he because of his stealth and she for... well let's just say when she exerted herself she was pretty damn hard to resist. And speaking of his partner she should have been here already. He tapped his finger against his leg as he glanced around the room, but there was still no sign of her. Fagetti was gonna be pissed if she didn't show.

The crew had assembled in the basement of a restaurant owned by D'Agostino to get their assignments and now Fagetti was standing in the front of the room briefing his new team like this was some kind of business meeting. Jase snorted quietly, in a way he supposed it was.

"Some men cannot be broken. The Seventh are such men. There is only one solution for this," Fagetti said, his voice echoing off the bare walls and dirty plascrete floor.

"What's that?" One of the samurai called out.

The hit man turned cold dark eyes on the speaker. "You kill them, gentlemen. Except Stud. We have something… special planned for him."

Jase squirmed surreptitiously. Even half hidden in the shadows, he didn't want anyone noticing him fidgeting. It was just too dangerous to show any sign of discomfort or vulnerability around these men. He turned his head to watch when the same stupid idiot opened his fragging mouth and spouted off again. Fucker must have a death wish, 'cause Fagetti did not look happy. And when Fagetti was unhappy things tended to die, slowly, painfully, and as sure as next year's taxes.

"How are we supposed to do that? The fragger is always with the rest of his crew and you don't go after the Seventh lightly." The street sammy stared at Fagetti, his chromed cyber-eyes glittering in what little light was emitted by the bare bulbs hanging in the midst of the pipes and wires that hung from the support beams overhead.

"Cut him out of the herd. Take them down one at a time until he is alone. Do I have to do your job for you? Because if that is the case, please do let me know now so I can replace you. There is no room in this operation for idiots, Mr. Frazer."

Frazer bristled at Fagetti's tone, his body language screaming challenge.

"Well? What's it to be Mr. Frazer?" The hit man stepped forward crowding the sammy back against the group of men standing behind him. A cold smile crossed his face, his body loose and ready for a fight if the razor pressed the issue.

Frazer took one look into his menacing eyes and backed down, his hands held out in front of him in a placating gesture. "No," he said sullenly. "I'll do my job. Just asking."

The aura of violence faded as the situation diffused and Jase breathed a soft sigh of relief. Frazer really was an idiot if he thought he could take Fagetti without turning it into a blood bath and getting a whole lot of people killed. The hit man hadn't risen to the top of the food chain by being incompetent at his job.

The crowd of men stirred when a woman came out on the minuscule landing above them and paused for a moment, as if posing, before sauntering down the narrow stairs. She was beautiful, a butterfly in a thorn patch, emerald green eyes sparkled with mischief, long strawberry blonde hair curled enticingly, framing delicate elven features and tumbling in glorious disarray down her shoulders and over her bosom. The gold embroidery of her coat glistened in the dim light, hugging luscious curves, and black leather pants caressed her long legs. Her slender form stood in marked contrast to the beefed up cybered bodies of the men. Jase grinned as his partner's presence shifted the team dynamics. Revenge always could work a room. He gave a slight shake of his head when she glanced his way, letting her know he wanted to remain unnoticed. She threaded her way through the crowd, her hips swaying enticingly, completely cognizant of her effect on the assembled males. Making her way over to the table set up near the front of the room, she sat down on the edge, dangling one shapely leg. She smirked unrepentantly at Fagetti.

Fagetti narrowed his eyes speculatively as he studied her. "Everyone out. Revenge you stay."

Jase shot her a furtive glance over his shoulder as he filed out with the others. '_Tonight._' he dared to subvocalize over their comlink. She blinked once and turned her attention to Fagetti.


	2. Chapter 2

Shadowrun n.- Any movement, action, or series of such made in carrying out plans which are illegal or quasilegal. -WorldWide WordWatch, 2050 update

Lonestar Security ~ This mega corporation has taken over the job of local police departments.

H&K227 SMG - Heckler and Koche 227-S Submachine Gun.

Ares Predator - the most common heavy pistol found on the streets. The Predator is a heavy semi-auto pistol w/ smartlink.

chummer ~ street slang - friend or buddy.

Matrix - the internet has long been replaced by a 3D matrix with full emersion: to access it programmers (deckers) use a deck that plugs directly into their brain. The world within the matrix is controlled by the decker's mind - with 3d representations of data and actions: It could look like a cartoon; a film noir... almost anything imaginable and a few, bend the imagery and data to their will.

jacker - Military slang for decker/ rigger. It is more usual to do one or the other, but not both.

null persp - street slang - no sweat. short for null perspiration.

DMZ - Demilitarized Zone - an area where combat is prohibited

Ch. 1

_When everything is going according to plan, expect an ambush.—Street proverb_

Ezra's plane landed at precisely 2:40 but it was another 25 minutes of waiting for tired corpers, screaming brats and harried parents to clear the way before he, who was sitting in the second to the last row of the plane, could make his way down the aisle and into the terminal. He throttled down his impatient desire to use a force wave to clear his path, snickering at the image of the brat who had been sitting behind him plastered to the bulkhead. It would serve the little shit right for kicking his seat all the way from SeaTac to Denver. However, given that the boy's mother was an orc, and might take physical exception to his teaching the child the value of good manners, he decided that perhaps discretion was better than revenge...just this once, no matter how satisfying it might be to teach the child a sharp lesson.

Once the immediate area around his seat was clear, he stood and shrugged into his navy blue suit coat, tugged down the sleeves of his pristine white shirt, and straightened his cobalt blue tie. He smoothed one hand over the tie which had been a gift from Mask. He had feebly protested the expenditure on real silk but she said it brought out the green in his eyes and wouldn't take no for an answer. He smiled wistfully, missing her already. Then he reached up to the above compartment, gathered his carry on and made his way down the narrow aisle. He nodded politely to the flight attendant as he passed and free at last from the confines of the aircraft he made his way down the tunnel to the waiting area.

From there it was only a short walk over to baggage claim but the walkway was crowded with passengers coming and going so it took him longer than expected. His head ached from the cacophony of voices and intercoms announcing incoming and outgoing flights, and all he could think about was getting home and sitting down with a cup of real coffee and some peace and quiet. He nimbly dodged around a pile of luggage and a family standing in front of a callboard and threaded his way through the crowd before taking the escalator down to the ground floor. It was a little less crowded in this section of the terminal and everyone was going the same way so he made better time. As he rounded the last corner he was surprised to see a familiar duster and the lanky form of his fellow elven teammate waiting for him. Vin was casually leaning up against a pillar, cleaning his nails with a tiny pocketknife that looked harmless, but Ezra knew Vin and that little blade would be sharp enough to wound the wind. Vin straightened up when Ezra come into view and the small knife disappeared into the pocket of his well-worn jeans. He flipped his long golden-brown ponytail back over his shoulder as he moved away from the pillar and grinned a welcome.

Ezra flashed a quick smile as he strode over to join his partner while he waited for his luggage. "Falcon. This is a pleasant surprise. I did not expect to be picked up."

"Hoi, Ace. Lobo called us in. Thought you might appreciate saving a few 'yen on a cab." He glanced over at his friend noting his relaxed stance. "So... how was Mask?" Vin grinned remembering his last meeting with the irrepressible Raccoon Shaman, and he couldn't resist teasing his teammate a little bit given that Ezra had extended his visit with her at least twice before finally coming home to Denver. "We was kinda wondering if maybe you had decided to move up to Seattle for awhile."

Ezra looked over at Vin and smirked. "Mask is quite well, and said to say hello." He lapsed into uncharacteristic silence and pointedly watched for his bags to come around the conveyer belt.

Vin laughed as Ezra quite firmly ignored his attempt at drawing the fox shaman into revealing more about his vacation.

Ezra waited for his black leather suitcases to come around to their position and grabbed one before it could pass by. Vin snagged the other one and then they made their way out of the terminal to the parking garage and Vin's ancient Jeep. Vin had parked in the back of the lot so it was a bit of a walk and Ezra's feet were hurting by the time they got there.

Fifty feet from the car Vin suddenly stopped as the hair on the back of his neck rose. He reached out and snagged Ezra's sleeve pulling him to his side. "Something's wrong..."

With a roar the jeep disappeared in a ball of flames and twisted metal. The blast threw both men into the next aisle and they scrambled for cover as scorching hot debris rained down around them.

Ezra grabbed Vin's shoulder as the other man stumbled back against a car. "Falcon! Are you hit?"

The phys ad shook his head and grimaced. "No, I was just listening too hard and now my ears are ringing. You ok?"

The fox shaman nodded grimly. "I'm fine." He studied the parking lot with narrowed eyes, searching for anyone who might be laying in wait for them. "Call Lobo." He thrust his pocket secretary into Vin's hands. "I'm going astral to make sure there's no one waiting for us. Watch my meat." With that he sank down cross-legged and leaned against a wall, then he threw his spirit onto the astral plane.

As his spirit slipped free from his body a wave of pure mana slammed into him sending him crashing back into his body. His body convulsed and he fell over onto his side, his head smacking into the pavement with a thud that made Vin wince.

Vin cursed as the distinctive crack of gunfire rang out, echoing off the ceiling. He jumped to cover Ezra with his own body as bullets slammed into the car behind them. He pulled his armored duster over their bodies and flinched as two rounds impacted his back. The shock was dissipated by the kevlar weave in his jacket, but even still it was going to leave a mark. His lip curled in a silent snarl as he pulled his Predator from his shoulder holster and looked around trying to spot the shooter.

Whoever this fucker was he had come after the wrong men and Vin was determined to make him pay for that mistake. Another shot rang out and he growled as he located the muzzle flash. Sighting carefully he waited and then fired when the shooter popped up for another shot.

He gave a slight smile of satisfaction when he was rewarded with a scream and the dull thud of a body dropping to the ground. He scanned the area for any more assailants, but nothing moved and the feeling of being watched was fading rapidly, so he holstered his weapon and turned back to his fallen team mate.

Keeping one eye out for any more trouble, he opened one of Ezra's bags and grabbed the first item on top to use to try and stop the bleeding. Head wounds always bled like a stuck pig and this one was no different. He held the shirt against the cut and pressed down until the bleeding slowed enough for him to apply a slap patch. Knowing his team the way he did he always carried one in his pocket, 'cause sure as the sunrise someone was gonna need it sooner or later. He dug it out once the bleeding stopped and tore the package open with his teeth. Ezra's hair was matted with blood and gravel and that made it even more difficult to get the patch to stick. He dabbed at the wound and picked as much of the gravel off as possible before finally giving up and pressing it into place as well as he could.

The sound of approaching sirens alerted him to Lonestar's imminent arrival and since the last thing he wanted was to get caught up in an investigation, he pulled Ezra's limp form over his shoulder, grabbed his bags, and faded into the shadows.

Vin made his way out of the garage and set Ezra down on an out of the way bench. He sat down next to the shaman and pulled him up to rest against his shoulder. To anyone looking they now looked like a pair waiting for the bus or a cab. He sighed with relief when a Lonestar patrol car passed them without a second glance. He felt around in his coat pocket until he located the pocket secretary Ezra had given him, then he called Chris and waited impatiently for him to pick up.

Chris answered the call in his typical fashion. "Yeah?"

"Lobo, we got trouble. Someone attacked us and blew up my jeep. We need someone to come get us and bring Prophet. Ace is hurt." Vin ran his hand through dusty hair grimacing at the grimy feel.

"Sending Ferret. Where are you? How bad is Ace? Are you secure now?" The questions came fast and clipped.

"Over by the long term parking. Lot C. Can't tell how bad Ace is. He smacked his head and we got tossed around in the explosion. I think it's just a head wound but there could be something else and right now he is out of it. Yeah, we're secure for now, but Lonestar is here so tell Ferret to hurry."

"Will do. Hang tight. We're on the way."

Vin snapped the pocket secretary closed and stuffed it back in his pocket. He bundled up the now dirty shirt he had used to staunch the flow from Ezra's wound and put it in an outside pocket of his suitcase, cause God knew Ezra would bitch up a storm if any blood got on the rest of his clothes. Vin smiled slightly at the thought then turned his attention back to their predicament. Ferret better hurry cause he had no way to clean the blood off his hands and it was pretty obvious to anyone who bothered to look closely that they had been in a fight of some sort. Hopefully he had gotten them far enough away from the center of the action that they would be over looked.

A soft groan in the vicinity of his shoulder alerted him to Ace's somewhat reluctant return to consciousness. He smiled in relief as the fox shaman sat up a little straighter.

"Shit. What hit me?" Ezra asked.

"The pavement." Vin said snarkily.

Ezra frowned. "I wish that had been all, however, something hit me the second I stepped into the astral." He lifted a hand to his head and gingerly probed the area around the laceration. "Ow."

"Leave it alone, Ace. Prophet'll take care of it as soon as they get here." Vin frowned at his partner's attempts to scope out the damage to his head.

" Do we have any idea when our illustrious companions will see fit to join the soiree?" Ezra looked over at Vin. When his neck complained at the angle he turned to face the physical adept, stifling another groan as his head throbbed in time with the beat of his heart as he moved.

Vin shrugged. "Lobo was snapping off questions faster than I could answer him. You know what that means."

Ezra grinned. "Indeed. Mother Hen mode has been activated." He chuckled wryly. "Given that fact, Ferret will be lucky if Lobo allows him to drive." Vin laughed. "Good thing he doesn't have a rigger jack huh?"

"I would say so. Dear Lord, the man is a menace behind the wheel in the best of times. When he is worried..." He shuddered theatrically. "I fear for all who share the road with him."

Ezra exchanged a smile with his partner and then rolled his shoulders trying to loosen the muscles.

"Share?" Vin looked at him incredulously. "Lobo ain't real well know for sharing."

Ezra snorted. "Perhaps he was absent that day in kindergarten?"

The two men burst out laughing. Ezra winced as his headache intensified and smacked Vin's arm. "OW! Don't make me laugh." In turn Vin clutched his ribs and wheezed as the chuckles escaped.

"Me? You started it!"

Ezra snickered. "Actually Lobo started it. Dear lord if that man has his way he will conclude that this was somehow our fault and we should not be let out of the house without adult supervision."

They both abruptly sobered and looked suitably horrified at the thought.

"Shit," Vin frowned. "He would, wouldn't he?" "Knowing our fearless leader and his tendency to hover when one of us is incapacitated with more than a mere paper cut? Hell yes, he would."

Ezra carefully shook his head.

"Damn it. I knew I should've got Ferret to come after you. Who the hell did you piss off in Seattle?"

Ezra glared and smacked Vin's arm again. "Me? What makes you think I'm the target? It was your jeep they blew up."

"Yeah, but I was here picking you up." Vin's brow wrinkled with worry. "Seriously, Ace. Did you piss someone off? Maybe do a little Running while you were up there or take on a side job?"

"No!" Ezra's tone was firm, emphatic. "I was on vacation. I relaxed. Went dancing, spent time with my friends. That's it."

"But what about..." Ezra cut him off in mid-sentence. "Falcon! Leave it alone. I said no."

"Fine, but you know Lobo is gonna ask." Vin said mildly. He frowned as Ezra turned his back studiously ignoring him. It was very uncharacteristic of him and Vin wondered if something had gone wrong between his friend and Mask.

* O *

Fagetti turned a cold stare on Sal as he explained how the ambush on two of the Seventh had failed. Failed because the idiots had failed to take into account the amount of time it would take for the targets to get back to the car. Failed because they had used a timer in the first place rather than a remote trigger or a pressure plate. Failed because the sole survivor of the aborted hit had chosen to stay in safety in his room rather than accompany the shooter to the airport and therefore could not affect either target once the fox shaman had left the astral. Instead the idiot had watched helplessly as his partner had been cut down by the Seventh's sniper. And then to compound the epic failure he had returned to his body to report rather than trail them back to their safe house. If there was anything Fagetti despised, it was incompetence, and this debacle was a prime example of that. Their patron, Paulo D'Agostino, was not a forgiving man and he wanted the Seventh and particularly their leader, Lobo, dead. It was Fagetti's job to see to that and with his own life on the line he was not about to go back to the Don and say that it couldn't be done. No, he would make this hit or die trying. To that end he had put together a team and if they could not do the job, there were others to chose from who could. He paced the room until he was behind the babbling mage and drew his pistol. Pumping two shots into the base of the man's skull he turned and walked out of the room.

* O *

When Jase heard of Sal's unfortunate... demise he spared a brief moment to contemplate what he had gotten himself into and the company he and his partner were being forced to keep. Fagetti was single minded to the point of obsession. The man was methodical, cold, calculating and deadly. In short, he was not a man you wanted to cross and yet it was their job to do so.

Jase sighed and made his way down the dim, dirty corridor of his flop house to his apartment. He frowned as the lights dimmed even more to a dirty brown and there was a crackle of a short in the wiring somewhere. Place was a fucking death trap waiting to happen! God, how he hated living in this sleazy run down shit hole. But the person he was right now wouldn't be able to afford someplace nicer so he had to stoically deal with it. He pressed his thumb against the keypad and eased the door open. Waiting a heartbeat he listened carefully. Except for the wheeze of the elderly air conditioner there was no sound so he stepped inside and shut the door quietly. He made sure the door was secure before making his way to the bathroom, shedding his clothing along the way. After the day he'd had all he wanted was a hot shower, a meal and a cold beer. Unfortunately the meal and the beer would be delayed until he could meet with Revenge and get her take on the day and find out what Fagetti had wanted with her. Together he knew they could watch each other's back, but separated they were way too vulnerable for this situation. His partner was brave to the point of recklessness sometimes, so he was use to watching over her and being the voice of reason. Being split up this way made him uneasy.

He stepped into the bathtub and leaned against the wall, letting the hot water pound on his neck and back. Slowly his back muscles relaxed and unknotted and he sighed with relief. Thirty minutes later he toweled his blond hair dry as he dug around in the closet for clean clothes. The bar they were meeting at was a dive so he grabbed a worn pair of jeans, a black and red plaid shirt that had seen better days and his dark brown, armored jacket. He dressed quickly and pulled his boots on, stamping his feet to settle into the form fitting leather. He slipped his shoulder holster over his shirt and shrugged on the jacket making sure his weapon was secure and concealed. Then he grabbed his helmet and keys and checked the hallway before he stepped outside and locked the door behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

The bar was tiny. Just a hole in the wall that had served this neighborhood as a hangout for decades. The selection was limited and the orc bartender was surly, but it was quiet and most of all safe. Revenge was sitting at a back table waiting for him. She had changed out of her signature flashy clothing and was wearing a black v-neck sweater and jeans. She had pulled her hair up in a low pony tail covering the tips of her ears. There was no hiding the fact that she was an elf but in this neighborhood it was no surprise to see metahumans so she didn't stand out as much as she did in more pure human areas. With makeup his partner was stunningly beautiful but Jase actually preferred her this way, au natural. All Corrine instead of Revenge. Corrine was softer somehow, more approachable, pretty rather than spectacular. He slipped into a seat across the table from her and nodded his appreciation when she slid a beer across to him. She didn't speak until he had taken a drink and relaxed back into his chair.

"You hear about Sal?" She took a sip of her beer as she studied his face, her green eyes holding his as she drank.

"Yeah. Was to be expected though. He and Dagger were idiots to jump the gun like that." Even here he took care with what he said out loud. Fagetti, unlike the two men who died that day, was definitely not stupid and Jase didn't put it past him to put a tail on one of them. He tongued the switch set in the roof of his mouth and activated the secure channel of their comlinks. _'What did Fagetti want with you?' _

She blinked and dropped her gaze to her beer. His blue eyes narrowed as she nervously began peeling the label off the bottle._ 'Corrine?' _

His tone let her know in no uncertain terms that he was not going to let it go, so she took a deep breath and looked back up. Her partner was going to be very unhappy in a moment, but the assignment came before his comfort. _'He wants me to go after one of the Seventh.' _

Jase kept his body still and his voice even by sheer force of will. _'Which one?'_

'_Stud. He has a reputation for having a weakness for the ladies.' _ Even over the comlink her sardonic tone of voice came through.

'_Corinne, do not underestimate these men,' _he warned.

'_I'm not,' _she snapped back._ 'Shit Jase. Do you think I am stupid? I know what is riding on this. I know how important this is and I will do my job! Just please... trust me. Okay?' _Her eyes glittered with determination.

Jase repressed a sigh and looked around the bar. He signaled the waitress to bring them both another beer then turned back to his partner. _'I do trust you. I just...'_ he paused to gather his thoughts. _'This is just turning into such a clusterfuck. So much for an easy in and out assignment huh?' _

She snorted._ 'Easy? When they say it's easy, run far, run fast. Didn't they teach you that? Or were you to busy ogling the teacher's ass to pay attention that day?' _

Jase grinned at her. Corrine hadn't thought much of their tactics instructor and her opinion had not changed any since she had been in the field. _'Just watch your back, kay? I don't want to have to break in another partner.'_

She smirked at him._ 'Always do.' _Corrine glanced down at her watch._ 'Gotta run. I am __supposed__ to meet up with Fagetti in the morning and I have to get some sleep.' _She reached across the table and squeezed his hand tightly. _'Be safe. Talk to ya later.' _She snagged the unopened beer and took it with her as she left. It wasn't until she had disappeared out the door that he realized she had left him with the bill.

He shook his head and signaled the waitress again. When he saw how much the tab was he fought the urge to bang his head into the table and vowed to take it out of her hide next time he saw her. She had eaten before he got there and not told him, and right about now she was laughing her ass off at him. He snorted in half amusement, half irritation, not quite sure why he wasn't more grumpy about it. 'Humph, partners!... can't live with 'em, can't shoot 'em, and they ain't got no resale value.' He finished his beer and then slotted his cred stick into the table's data port to pay for the bill and a generous tip and headed out the door. (cute)

* O *

JD and Josiah rolled their eyes and exchanged a look of fond exasperation as Chris gritted his teeth and swore at the knot of traffic heading into the airport area.

"Not gonna get there any faster by bitchin', brother." Josiah pointed out. The dwarf gave Chris a cheeky grin as he turned a glare on him.

JD hid a smile as he wove skillfully in and out of traffic. It was just a few minutes later that they spotted the two men sitting on a bench. JD pulled up and triggered the sliding door of the van.

Ezra rose shakily to his feet and Chris frowned at the pinched expression of pain on his face. Vin reached out a hand to steady him as Ezra staggered the last few feet to the curb.

Vin wasted no time in slinging Ezra's luggage into the back. He turned back to help Ezra only to have the shaman shrug off his hand as he climbed gingerly into the van. Ezra shot him an exasperated look with a quick furtive glance toward their fearless leader and Vin withdrew the offending hand with a slight grin of understanding. Josiah jumped out of the van and motioned Vin to take his place in the front seat while he crawled in next to Ezra.

Once they were settled JD shut the door and pulled smoothly back on the road and headed for home.

Josiah motioned to Ezra to lean over so he could check the head wound. Probing cautiously he inspected the area around the laceration. Ezra hissed as the patch caught in his hair. "Ow!"

"Sorry, brother. Well you managed to avoid cracking your skull open but you do have a pretty nasty gash here. I want to wait to heal it until we can clean all the gravel and dirt out. We are going to leave the patch on for now, but it's gonna hurt coming off," he warned.

Ezra frowned in annoyance. "I'm fine," he stated firmly as Chris leaned back to take a look.

Chris raised both eyebrows and looked down his nose at the shaman. "Sure you are. For someone with a concussion. Your pupils are uneven, Ezra. You will see Nathan when we get back and no arguing with him." He turned back to face the front of the vehicle and watched Vin shift uncomfortably in his seat. He frowned as he noted that the phys ad was not moving in his usual smooth manner. His grayish green eyes narrowed as he studied his second. Vin's breath seemed to be catching when he moved a certain way. When the sniper began surreptitiously fidgeting Chris knew he was right. Vin, too, was injured.

Vin's shoulders twitched and the short hairs on the back of his neck rose. He could feel Chris's stare like a weight hanging over his head. Doing his best to ignore it he looked out the window, fidgeted with his seatbelt and tried his best to control his breathing. Finally, he couldn't take it any longer. He glanced over his shoulder, and sure enough Chris had now leveled that irritated stare at him. "Hey don't look at me like that. I'm fine." He turned back to face the front as storm clouds seemed to appear in that steely gaze.

JD glanced over at Vin and smirked. "I don't think he's buying it, Vin."

The sniper had the grace to look a bit sheepish and he shrugged as if to say he'd had to try.

Chris hid a small smile. It wasn't often he was able to intimidate his second. The man seemed to be practically immune to the glare that sent lesser men scurrying for cover. Vin on the other hand usually just flashed a cheeky grin and called him cowboy. Chris would never admit it aloud but that bravery was one of the things he admired and respected about their sniper. He had no use for a coward. Not that any of the Seventh were. No, they one and all, tended more to reckless heroic bravery, especially if one of the others was threatened or injured in any way. Hurt one of them and the other six would rip your throat out or die trying. It was just one of the things that made them such an effective team.

Vin glanced back once again and nodded as Chris lifted one eyebrow. "Fine!" he huffed. "I'll let Nathan look at me(,) too."

"Thank you." Chris sat back in his seat with a self-satisfied smirk.

Vin rolled his eyes and settled back with a much put-upon sigh.

JD chuckled, just glad that for once, he wasn't the one who was in the hot seat.

* O *

Once they reached the business office complex that served as the Seventh's main headquarters, Chris sent Vin and Ezra off to the rooms that Nathan had set up as a triage clinic. While their medic couldn't take care of everything, it did serve as a place he could treat minor problems or emergency situations before taking them to see their street doc Potshot at her clinic.

Nathan shook his head in exasperation as his two patients squabbled over who had to go first. Vin insisted that head wounds and concussions were much more serious than bruises, while the sharp eyed Ezra had noted the stiff way Vin was favoring his side and he was sure that the sniper had at the very least cracked a rib.

Finally Nathan had, had enough. "Both of you! Sit down and shut up!" He leveled a glare worthy of their fearless leader on the two. "Vin! Sit right there." He pointed at the stool next to his desk. Then he turned the glare on a smirking Ezra. "You will sit there and let 'Siah clean out that head wound." He held up a hand as the shaman predictably opened his mouth to protest. "Save it, Ezra. I do _not_ want to hear it." He turned back to Vin and ran a portable x-ray wand over his side. He nodded as the machine confirmed his suspicions. "Vin, you have a cracked rib and two that are broken."

Vin bowed his head. "Yeah, I kinda figured, given how much it hurts to breathe deep." He looked over as Ezra let out a squawk and softly chuckled at the aggrieved glare the shaman shot at Josiah. Even as he grimaced at the pain from laughing he couldn't help but be a bit gleeful. At least he wasn't the only one who was going to be mother henned to death.

Josiah ran gentle hands over his teammate's auburn hair loosening the blood and debris that had been ground into his scalp. He poured warm water over the wound until the water ran clear. Then he patted Ezra on the shoulder. "Almost done, brother." He dabbed a gauze pad over the area to dry it.

Chanting softly in Latin he cast the healing spell and grunted in satisfaction as the skin knit itself back together.

The same spell would take care of the concussion although Ezra would have a lingering headache for a while. Stepping back he nodded to Ezra and then turned his attention to the phys ad. He took a deep breath and laid his hands on Vin's side. A few minutes later he sighed and smiled at Vin. "Be careful for a few days. They are knit back together but it will take time to strengthen back up. It's going to be a bit tender for a while, too."

Vin nodded. "Thanks, 'Siah." He smiled down at the dwarf.

"My pleasure, Vin."

The four men looked over as Chris strode into the room. "Nathan? How are they doing."

Nathan ran a hand through his short cropped hair. "As long as they both take it easy for a couple of days, they will be fine." He looked pointedly at the two elves. "That means no running around getting shot at!"

Vin grinned. "Aw, man. You never let us have any fun," he mock groused.

Chris snorted in amusement. "Let's go. There are questions that need answering." He stepped back into the hall, confident they would follow him.

* O *

The rest of the team had gathered in the conference room by the time they made their way through the building. Ezra was greeted by smiles of welcome as he came through the door. He made his way around the big round table to his usual chair next to Vin, and sank down with a soft sigh of relief. His head hurt and so did his feet and all he wanted at this point was to go home, curl up on his big bed and sleep. It had been a long(,) tiring, stressful day and it wasn't over yet.

If he had read the signs right, Chris was about to go on the warpath. He wanted answers and he wanted them right now. Not that either Ezra or Vin could tell him much. Ezra had been knocked unconscious almost immediately and Vin had been so preoccupied with covering both of them and then getting away before Lone Star could detain them that he had seen next to nothing.

Vin scratched his head as a thought occurred to him. "Chris. I killed the shooter. I'm sure of it. And I am pretty sure he was the only one there. I didn't see, or sense, anyone after I took him down."

Chris nodded. "Your point?"

"The point is that Lone Star showed up just a few minutes after the explosion. We barely got away before they pulled into the lot. I bet they got the body."

JD sat up straight. "I can make a Run on the morgue. See if they IDed the shooter," he offered.

"Do it." Chris turned to the decker. "How long do you think it will take?"

"Well..." JD shifted in his seat while he calculated how much time he would need to get in, break the encryption on the files, locate the information and get out. "Gotta give 'em time to ID the vic, and input the information. I figure, maybe forty-eight hours before that happens. Say... seventy-two if the vic is SINless. I can have the information by the end of the week, if Lone Star doesn't drag their heels on data entry. Really it depends on how swamped the morgue is. Of course if they can't ID him all bets are off, ya know."

The wry twist to Chris' lips conceded the fact.** "**Good enough." Chris turned his attention to Vin and Ezra. "Okay, you're both mostly healed now... but you aren't doing much of anything for the next few days and you're doing it where I can see you."

" Chr-is..." Both men complained in unison.

"Save it. Now what did you two do that made people try and kill you?" Chris cocked an eyebrow at his second and the shaman.

Vin frowned. "You were with me all week."

"I was on vacation," Ezra added.

Chris glared. "Think about it."

Vin and Ezra exchanged looks and tried again. "You were with me all week."

"I was on vacation."

Chris' glare never wavered and left neither of them a reprieve. "Think about it," he reiterated.

Buck hid a grin as the two elves fidgeted under Chris's unrelenting stare.

"I cut off that lady who was running the stop sign." Vin searched desperately for some idea of who could possibly be mad enough at him to blow up his beloved Jeep.

While none of the others would ever believe him, Ezra's visit with Mask had been quiet and he couldn't think of a single reason someone would go so far as to try and kill him... at least not for anything recent. "I forgot to tip my bellhop?" Ezra shrugged helplessly.

Buck sat up and snapped his fingers. "That must be it! 'Deadly ninja bellhops'."

When the others turned to look at him with varying expressions of "what the fuck?" His deep blue eyes twinkled with mischief as he shrugged and gave them a snarky grin. "What? ... they unionized."

JD was the first to crack, bursting out laughing until tears ran down his face. Nathan and Josiah chuckled and Vin clutched his ribs as he laughed. Ezra shook his head and dropped it down to rest on the table, only his slightly shaking shoulders giving away his amusement, and even Chris' lips twitched as he fought a smile. 

It took a few minutes for them to bring their mirth under control but in that time the mood in the room lightened and they all relaxed. Buck smiled with satisfaction. Tension was not conducive, he smiled at the Ezra word, to brainstorming. True, they needed to figure out what had prompted the attack, but Chris storming around grilling everyone like some cheesy trid version of a grumpy detective was not going to get them the answers they needed.

"Chris, until we get more information I don't think we are going to get anywhere," Josiah pointed out mildly.

"Fine. All of you, watch your backs until we can figure this out." Chris stood signaling the end of the meeting. He stomped out of the room to go call their fixer, Inez, and have her put out feelers. If someone was after his men he wanted to know about it.

* O *

The restaurant was understated and elegant with sparkling bone china, crisp white linen tablecloths and quiet unobtrusive wait staff. Just the kind of place Harold Fagetti preferred. He was sitting quietly drinking a cup of coffee and toying with his meal when Revenge arrived. He turned his attention from the wall of glass that framed a picture perfect view of the mountains to watch her approach with narrowed eyes. The elf was beautiful and deadly, but there was a wildness about her that he didn't trust. Once again she was dressed in an outfit that would keep a normal family in rent and groceries for six months. Her long coat was a patchwork of dark genuine leather and golden sheepskin set in a harlequin pattern. Under it her silk blouse shimmered with every move of her body, the emerald green a perfect match for her eyes. The skirt was also leather, this time butter soft black suede that fit her like a glove. She stood almost six feet tall in her stiletto heels, towering over the hit man. Where she normally wore her hair down and free flowing, today it was up, smooth against the nape of her neck in some kind of complicated twist which allowed the long dangling hoops of her earrings to hang free. A matching gold necklace sparkled against her creamy skin, the ruby pendant resting in the hollow of her throat like single drop of blood suspended in time. All in all she looked lovely, competent and the perfect bait to draw out a man with a known weakness for the ladies. A weakness that Fagetti had every intention of using to destroy him. He nodded to her as she slipped into a chair across the table from him.

Revenge tilted her head to one side and met Fagetti's eyes. As always she suppressed a shudder at the lack of emotion he showed. She plastered a slight smile on her face as she accepted a cup of coffee from the waitress. "You wanted to see me?" She took a moment to appreciate the aroma of pure, real coffee before her eyes flicked around the room noting the exits and the presence of Fred, Fagetti's right hand man. If there was anyone in the family that was scarier than the Don and Fagetti, it was Fred. The man was unassuming, thinning hair, slight in build and always dressed in rumpled unkempt clothes. His eyes were watery behind old fashioned glasses but look into those cruel eyes and you saw death looking back at you. Fred was, without a doubt, one of the deadliest assassins in the world. His appearance was nothing more than an elaborate trap for the unwary. Corinne, however, was anything but unwary. She had done her homework and had a healthy respect for the amount of sheer mayhem the man could unleash. If she ever had the opportunity to take Fred down, she promised herself, it would be quick, decisive and from a distance. If she had her way the man would never know what hit him. She took a brief second to contemplate that happy thought.

Fagetti handed her a slim file. "This is the information we have on Stud. Study it and take him down."

She flipped though the file quickly, then nodded. "This will take time you realize," she said. "If I am going to do it right and have a snowball's chance in hell of success I can't rush this. If I try he will be warned."

"I am aware of that. You have what time you need. However, if I suspect that you are not giving it your best effort, we will be having another... chat."

His smile sent a shiver down her spine and she nodded quickly, allowing him to see a hint of fear in her gaze. "Yes, sir. I understand and you can count on me."

Fagetti smiled thinly. "I am sure I can."

The menace in his tone was clear and she had no trouble translating it to mean 'do or die trying.' "If that is all, sir, I will get on this right away."

He nodded permission to go and watched as she rose smoothly to her feet and strode out of the room, her heels clicking with each stride. Once she was out of ear shot he glanced over at his second. "Well?"

Fred cleared his throat. "I don't trust her." His voice was gravely from disuse.

Fagetti barked out a harsh laugh. "You don't trust anyone," he pointed out.

"True, but that is why I am still alive and so many others are not. As for this slitch... keep her on a short leash, Harold."

"She knows who pays her bills," Fagetti smirked.

Fred turned his shark's gaze on his boss and frowned. "Even a kept pet can turn on the hand that feeds it."

"Relax, Fred. She pretends to be tough but either of us could break her without even trying." He waved a dismissive hand.

Fred subsided in his chair and lapsed into his customary watchful silence. He had delivered his warning and if Harold choose to discount it, well then, his position would soon be open.

* O *

Corinne breathed a sigh of relief once she was clear of the building. She strode quickly to her car and slid gracefully behind the wheel. Starting it up, she typed her destination into the GPS, activated the auto-drive and eased onto the road heading for her partner's apartment. If she hurried maybe she could catch him before he left for the day.

* O *

Jase woke feeling like something had crawled under his tongue and died. He groaned as the sunlight filtering through the thin shades crossed the bed and shone directly into his bleary eyes. His head ached and he wondered if he was coming down with something. It felt like he had a world class hangover but he hadn't had more than those two beers the night before. Suspicion and a healthy dose of paranoia dragged him from the bed to check and make sure that his rooms had not been entered while he was sleeping. He blanched when he walked into the living room and there on the floor was a small scrap of paper. A scrap that had been on top of the door jamb when he went to bed. Sometime between then and now his refuge had been breached. He searched the small apartment for any other signs of intrusion but there was nothing to indicate that anyone other than himself had been there. It all came down to that single scrap. He jumped when a tap sounded on the door. He grabbed his pistol off the counter and plastered himself to the wall beside the door. Raising his hand he covered the peephole and waited breathlessly. A chuckle sounded on the other side of the door and a familiar voice spoke just loud enough for him to hear. "Open the fucking door Jase, it's just me." He threw the lock and jerked the door open to reveal his partner standing there looking like a super model.

She strode into the room as if it were her own and stopped when she noticed the expression on his face. "What's wrong?"

He ran his hand through his hair and shut the door, before striding across the room to throw himself down on the sagging couch. "I think someone broke in last night while I was asleep. I feel... hungover."

She arched one perfectly groomed eyebrow. "Jase, you were drinking last night," she reminded him.

"No more than two beers," he snapped. "And then there is this." He handed her the tiny piece of paper.

She took it and looked from the scrap to him. "I fail to see the significance."

"I always put something on the doorjamb when I lock up. Someone walks in and it falls. It's doubtful they would ever notice it and even if they did, so what? It's just a scrap of paper, right?" He nodded to it. "That was on the floor this morning. Someone was here."

Her brow wrinkled a bit as she thought about what he had said. "Jase... are you sure it didn't just get dislodged by the air conditioner or something? Other than that, is there any evidence that someone was here?" She looked around the room to see if anything was out of place. Although the apartment was shabby, Jase kept it immaculately clean and tidy. The painted walls might be faded and the floor was scuffed from years of abuse but there was no grime. Each item was neatly in its place and while the furniture was old and worn like the room, it did not smell of mildew like so many such pieces did. To her recollection it looked exactly the same as the last time she had been here, right down to the stack of mail sitting in an open basket he kept on the counter beside the bowl that held small items like his bike keys and wallet.

Jase shook his head slowly. "No," he admitted. "Just the paper. You don't believe me, do you?"

"It's not that I don't believe you. I am just wondering if there is another explanation. Why would someone be in your apartment and not take anything?" She stopped and looked at him hard. "Honestly, I think you are concerned over nothing. I'm hungry, let's go grab some breakfast and you can help me plan how to take down this fragger." She waved the file at him.

* O *

Chris stared at JD. "Let me get this straight. Someone stole the body? Before they could ID him?"

"Yep." The decker flopped down in his chair with a frown on his face. "They got jack shit from the crime scene. Fragging incompetent idiots. Whoever is in charge of hiring over at Lone Star should be fired." The vein in Chris's temple throbbed as he silently seethed and JD was amazed the man had any teeth left with the way he ground them together in frustration. "You want me to keep looking?"

Chris waved a hand in negation. "No point to it now. We are just going to have to wait and see if Inez's people come up with anything."

JD nodded. "You got it, boss."

* O *

Jase climbed off his bike and pulled his helmet off as he walked toward the diner across the street. Revenge would not be all that happy with his choice but her cash flow exceeded his by quite a bit and this was all he could afford so she would just have to suck it up, or pay for a nicer restaurant. He rather hoped she would agree to eating here, cheap it might be, but the food was good and the portions hearty. The type of places she chose tended to run to portion sizes that would barely keep a mouse alive. Either way it went, one of them was going to stand out in the crowd. Here however, the crowd tended to be much more tight(-)lipped about what and who they saw coming and going. Unless of course there was 'yen to be had and then all bets were off. Still in this neighborhood, someone would have to actively purchase information versus the establishments that Revenge frequented where you could get info simply by listening to the wealthy gossip and snipe about the "less fortunate." He waved to his favorite waitress, holding up two fingers, as he headed for 'his' booth in the back. It was quieter back there and the back door was conveniently placed to allow a furtive exit if needed. He took the bench that put his back to the wall and waited for his partner to join him. It was about fifteen minutes before she sauntered through the front door of the diner, her stunning looks drawing all eyes to her. She paused in the entrance and if Jase didn't know better he would think she was posing. As it was he recognized the scan of the room for the tactical sweep it really was, cataloging entrances, exits and patron's threat levels. She made her way to the booth and slid in. She wrinkled her nose at the soy-caf waiting for her.

"I do so detest this swill," she complained.

Jase raised an eyebrow. "So don't drink it." He took a sip of his own brew with a grin. "Spoiled brat," he added.

She chuckled and acknowledged the hit with an imaginary tip of a hat. "So I am." She tossed the file Fagetti had given her on the table and nodded to it. "Spaghetti gave that to me this morning." Her eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Damn it, Revenge!" he hissed. "Sometimes you are so fragging reckless I wanna strangle you. You have got to be more careful. He hears you called him that and your life won't be worth a plugged nickel!"

"Oh relax, will ya? How is he gonna find out? You're not planning on telling him, are you?" She waved a well-manicured hand at him dismissively, the tiny gems inset into her polished nails flashing in the light. "And I doubt that anyone who just happened to overhear me would know who the frag we are talking about anyway. So just stay frosty, 'kay?"

Jase fought the urge to either bang his head against the wall... or hers. He didn't particularly care which at that exact moment. Sometimes his partner just didn't seem to have the common sense that the Good Lord gave little white puppies. Her outlook had always been that if she had to cross thin ice, she would cross it in a dance, while his more pragmatic bent said just melt the mother-fucking ice and take the damn boat.

She pushed the file under his hand with a smirk.

He flipped the file open and took the holo out. A dark haired man with blue eyes and a dark mustache grinned up at him. "This the target?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Street name is Stud." She cocked her head and chuckled softly.

He looked through what little information they had been able to gather. Fagetti's decker hadn't been able to find much more than what was public knowledge. He was with the Seventh and was a street samurai with an impressive record. Jase rolled his eyes. No shit he had an impressive record. Lobo didn't suffer incompetence any more than Fagetti did. There was not a single man on that team that was anything less than frighteningly competent. They were, without a doubt, the best team of runners in the sprawl and their successes spoke for themselves.

She plucked the holo out of his hand and studied it. "At least he's handsome," she observed. "Let's just hope he can live up to his street name."

Jase shot her a look of exasperation.

"What? Can't a girl enjoy her work?" she threw out offhandedly.

* O *

"Hola, Inez. Did you get anything at all?" Chris asked. He watched the dark haired Latina carefully. It wasn't that he didn't trust her. She was actually one of the few outside the Seventh that he did trust. A fixer lived and died by their reputation, and screwing your stable of Shadowrunners was a good way to find yourself either dead, or out of work. Runners had long memories and gossiped like a bunch of sorority girls at a slumber party. Fixers who betrayed the trust of their independent contractors soon found that no one would work for them.

She shook her head regretfully. "Lo siento, Lobo. There has been no chatter anywhere that my people have been able to find. No word of a hit being called on any of you. Do you want me to keep digging?"

Chris frowned. Inez had always been straight with them and they rewarded that honesty with loyalty. She was the only fixer the Seventh worked for. Still, she might be reluctant to share information if it implicated one of her other clients. Her body language, however, showed no signs of holding back any information that might be vital to their survival. Chris was sure that she was telling him the truth as she knew it. "No. Thank you for checking."

She smiled. "It is my pleasure, senor. Tenga cuidado."

"As always." _~ End trans._

He leaned over and switched off the telescreen. Inez Rocillos was the best fixer in Denver and if even she was unable to get any intel, Chris knew there was likely nothing to find. It was beginning to look like whoever had a beef with either Vin, or Ezra, possibly both, had gone to ground after the attempt had failed. The missing body was especially worrisome, it was after all an extreme measure to take to insure the man wasn't identified. To Chris this signified someone had hired him to make the hit and that someone was still out there. He ran their last few Runs over in his mind trying to pinpoint anyone who might be targeting them. Nothing stood out. All in all the last few months had been fairly quiet. The runs they had pulled, while not easy, had gone off smoothly and without undue attention from either corp or Lone Star. There had been one incident with Buck and a disgruntled husband but neither Vin, nor Ezra had been involved in that and the couple had moved back east shortly after that. Ezra of course had been in Seattle for a couple months visiting Mask, but he swore things had been quiet and he had pulled no jobs while he was there. Vin had disappeared for a couple weeks with a private security gig, escorting a VIP to a conference and providing him a body guard while he was there, but again there had been nothing that would provoke such an attack. Chris pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his eyes.

"Let it go, cowboy." Vin spoke from the doorway.

Chris looked up to see the sniper leaning casually on the doorjamb. "You heard?"

"Yeah. Listen Chris, worrying about it isn't gonna make it go away or fix it. We'll watch out, and if someone else comes after us, we'll deal with it." He smiled and his piercing blue eyes twinkled with mischief. "Besides. As mad as Ezra is about his damn clothes and the blood stains, I pity the man who crosses him next."

Chris chuckled. Their shaman was well known for his tres chic wardrobe and was fiercely protective of it. It took no stretch of the imagination at all to see what kind of snit he must be in over the loss of any portion of it. "All right. I'll leave it for now. Just watch your six will ya? I'd hate to have to break in a new sniper."

Vin laughed. "Shit, you'd be hard pressed to find one that would put up with all your mother henning."

"Ha! I think you have me confused with Nathan." Chris looked down his autocratic nose as he pointed a finger at Vin.

Vin rolled his eyes. "Hell, between the two of you, it's a wonder ya'll let any of us out the door sometimes." He looked alarmed at the thoughtful look on his CO's face. "Now, Chris. Don'tcha be getting any ideas." He stood up straight and fixed Chris with a glare. "I ain't no kid and you got no call to be..." he stopped as he noted the twinkle in Chris' eyes. "Mother fucker. You did that on purpose!"

Chris snickered. "And you fell for it."

* O *

Buck turned his head to watch as a beautiful woman walked by his table. JD elbowed him to get his attention as the waitress waited patiently for his order. He turned back and gave her a blinding smile. "I'll have the T-bone, darling('). Baked potato, with everything and a salad, Ranch dressing."

She smiled back. "And to drink?"

"Beer. Whatever ya have on tap."

"I'll have that right out, sir. If you need anything else, let me know." Her tone of voice and body language was lightly suggestive and her eyes twinkled at him as she turned her heels and sashayed away, giving a little extra shimmy to her walk.

JD laughed and smacked Buck on the arm. "Ya know, if you could bottle that, you would make a fortune. Although it would be kinda nice if ya left one or two for the rest of us," he groused.

Buck smirked. "Kid, some things you just have to be born with."

* O *

"How do you plan on getting close to him?" Jase asked. He dug into his breakfast as he watched her.

Revenge shrugged. "Honestly, I am not sure. I've run a few things through my mind but..." she trailed off and took a sip of her soy-caf, grimacing at the taste.

Jase thought about it for a moment. "Too cliche?"

"Yes, exactly. I'm sure the man isn't stupid and anything too overt will make him suspicious." She set her cup down and took a bite of the pancakes she had ordered. An expression of delight crossed her face as she chewed. "Hey, these are really good." She waved her fork in his direction.

"Of course they are. I told you the food was good here." He rolled his eyes at her surprise. "You need to find out where he hangs out," he said returning to the original topic. He rested his chin on his hand and thought about it. "A casual meeting would be best I think. Sort of in passing."

* O *

Buck smiled at the clerk as she rang up their meal. He leaned on the counter and gave her his best smile.

JD shook his head fondly. Buck just couldn't help himself. If there was a woman present the sammy was going to be distracted. Unless they were in a fight. He left his friend to settle the bill and headed out the door and across the parking lot to where their bikes were parked.

* O *

"That file say anything about known hangouts?" Jase leaned over trying to read the information upside down.

Revenge perused the paperwork. "There is one bar they have been seen at a few times. Over off Twelfth Street Place called The Saloon." She arched an eyebrow. "Not my usual choice for a drink."

"Aww, poor baby, don't ya like honky tonks darlin'?" he drawled. The thought of his oh so high maintenance partner at a dive like The Saloon made him chuckle.

* O *

A sudden squeal of tires drew Buck's attention away from the clerk and he watched in horror as JD flew over the hood of a long slung Westwind. The decker smashed into the windshield and slid off the hood onto the pavement as the car fishtailed into the street. He bounced as he hit the ground and rolled to a stop, his body crumpled like a child's rag doll, limbs askew, unmoving. Buck felt his heart lurch and skip a beat, and with a horrified cry he hit the door at a dead run. He skidded to a halt next to his best friend's battered form and fell to his knees, trying to catalog his injuries, to stanch the flow of blood with his bare hands.

The waitress followed Buck and dropped to her knees next to him, her pocket secretary out and already dialing for Doc Wagon. She babbled the address to the operator who answered and then ripped off her apron to try and stop the bleeding from multiple lacerations. "Oh my God. Is he dead?" she gasped.

Buck blanched as he felt frantically for a pulse. For one dread filled moment he felt nothing until he moved his fingers slightly and there it was, weak and faltering, but there. "He's alive. How long until they get here?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. They're on the way." She pressed the cloth gingerly to his head. The wound bled freely turning his face into a macabre mask. His eyelids fluttered and for a moment she thought he would open his eyes but he continued to lie there, his breathing barely perceptible.

Buck's focus narrowed until he could hear his heartbeat thumping in his chest, fast and furious as if he had just run a marathon. He gasped for air, pleading under his breath for JD to live, for his brother not to leave him. The glass shards embedded in JD's face and arms sparkled in the sunlight peeking out of the red flow of his friend's life's blood. One of JD's legs was shattered, bone sticking out through the shredded flesh and Buck gagged and fought down the urge to vomit. He had never felt more helpless as he knelt beside JD and prayed harder than he ever had in his life. Prayed for the paramedics to hurry, prayed for JD to keep breathing, for his heart to keep beating. JD gasped for breath, his lips faintly tinged with blue. Against Buck's fingers his pulse fluttered, stuttered and skipped a couple of beats before starting again, faint and faltering. "Ferret, don't you fucking die on me!" Buck yelled. "Don't you leave me! Damn it, you hear me, Ferret?" In the distance he could hear the faint wail of sirens approaching. "They are almost here. Come on kid, just hang on a few more minutes!"

Hazel eyes fluttered opened and stared up at Buck dazedly. JD struggled to catch his breath, struggled to speak, to tell Buck he understood and that he would fight to stay alive. He wasn't ready to leave just yet. Not until he had helped find the people targeting them. The fuckers that threatened his family, not until he had ripped their throats out with his bare hands for daring to bring even the threat of harm to his brothers. His eyes drifted shut before he could speak, but as they did he saw understanding in Buck's fierce gaze. Agony overwhelmed him, and he convulsed, his back arching up and off the pavement until after what seemed an eternity it released him to fall to the ground. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and the pain chased him down into the darkness. Through the rents in his shirt the ferret tattoo that crawled up his rib cage flashed with an unearthly light and its eyes glowed green with foxfire. The healing spells caught within its sleek lines reached out to JD's battered body, seeking out the worst of the wounds and stemming the flow of blood...

* O *

"You're going to need different clothes, ya know. You show up dressed like that and you're going to stand out too much," Jase observed.

Revenge sighed in disappointment as her hand stroked the soft leather of her skirt. "I know." Then she smiled brightly. "Guess I better go shopping."

Jase chuckled into his cup. Women...

* O *

They found Buck wedged into a waiting room seat hunched over staring at his blood stained hands. He looked up at them bleakly, the silvery tracks of tears marring his cheeks. Josiah dropped into the chair next to him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Have you heard any word?"

"No. He is in surgery. They said they would come talk to me after." He turned to Chris. "Did you bring the Power of Attorney and Power of Health? They won't let us make decisions for him without it."

Chris nodded. "Right here. I'll go talk to the admittance clerk." He strode off, letting the rest of the team give Buck the support he so desperately needed.

Ezra handed Buck a cred stick with his false ID embedded in it. "You forgot this."

Buck nodded absently. "Thanks." He stuffed the ID in his pocket, his attention never straying from the big double door that JD had disappeared through.

* O *

Hours passed and still they waited, taking over one corner of the waiting area. Ezra left for an hour before reappearing with a tray of coffees and a box of pastries. Josiah split his time between the small chapel and talking to the others, offering encouragement and what comfort he could. Nathan haunted the nurses station hoping to pick up any useful information, while Vin and Chris kept a silent vigil. Buck paced around the room growing more agitated by the hour until at last he exploded, his frustration boiling over at the lack of news.

"What the fuck is taking so long?" Buck snarled.

Chris looked up to find that Buck had cornered the nurse and for once he wasn't smiling as he spoke to a woman. She cringed against the wall as the sammy loomed over her. Chris leapt to his feet and strode over, pulling Buck off her and spun him into Vin's grasp. "Walk it off, Stud!" he snapped. "Falcon, you and Prophet get him out of here. Don't come back 'til he calms down," Chris ordered.

The two men manhandled Buck out of the waiting room and out the sliding doors to the parking lot. Once outside he wrenched away from their grasp with a low growl. "Get the fuck off me!"

"Shit, Stud. We're all worried ok? But going after a nurse isn't gonna do anything more than get us kicked outta here..." Vin stated calmly.

"Fuck you, Falcon!" Buck ran a hand through his thick black hair leaving it standing on end. His eyes were wild and filled with desperation as he rounded on his teammate.

"Stud, you need to calm down. When there is news they will come tell us." Josiah's attempt to soothe Buck fell on deaf ears as the street sammy paced up and down the sidewalk. "Come on, talk to us brother. We understand how you feel..." He drew back in alarm when Buck whirled to face him fury overwhelming the big man.

"You don't understand jack shit, Prophet. This is my fault! I should have been there!" Buck spat out.

"What are you talking about? You were there," Vin asked in confusion.

"No, I wasn't. I was inside talking to the waitress. I should have been with him. Not fucking flirting with that girl! If I had been there maybe I could have stopped this. Seen the car before he got hit. Something!" Tears ran down his face unnoticed as he confessed his failure.

Understanding dawned and Vin stepped forward, laying a comforting hand on Buck's shoulder. "Stud, this is not your fault. It's the fault of the fucker who hit him. And believe me, when we catch up to him, he will pay. I swear that to you."

Buck choked back more tears. "But what if..." A whistle interrupted whatever he was about to say and the three looked over to see Nathan standing in the door beckoning.

"Doc is here," Nathan called. He drew back as Buck rushed for the door.

Chris was standing talking to a tall Amerindian man dressed in blood spattered scrubs, a surgical mask hanging by a cord around his neck and booties over his feet. The doctor ran a hand over his face, his eyes red rimmed and tired looking. Chris and Ezra eased back opening the circle enough to allow the others to join them.

"It will take time," The doctor was saying as they moved to join the conversation. "But his prognosis is very encouraging. There is a lot of damage to the leg. We were able to realign everything but I have to be honest, it was touch and go for a while there. He actually coded twice but we were able to get him back. Your friend is a fighter, gentlemen." He shook his head in admiration. "We've stabilized him for the moment, but the reason I am out here instead of still working on him, is I was told you hold PoH and PoA on Mr. Donner?"

"I do. They have it on file." Chris gestured to the admitting desk. "Do you need consent for something?"

The doctor nodded. "We are going to have to do some muscle and bone replacement, and while I have him open I need to know if we also need to do any augmentation."

Buck spoke up. "He has mentioned upgrading his wired reflexes to me."

Chris looked thoughtful for a moment. "We can cover that. Is that feasible, doctor?"

"Certainly. That will actually be quite easy with his existing cyberware. What level do you want to go with?"

Chris smiled slightly. "Top of the line, doc. With whatever you need to do."

Vin grinned. "Hey(,) doc. How about you add one a those cool built in holsters."

The doctor chuckled. "I can do that, too. Any other options?"

"Nah, I think that'll do it. Can't have the kid thinking he's invincible there."

* O *

JD floated in the dark, pain a distant concept, hovering on the edge of his consciousness like a wild animal stalking him. He pulled deeper into himself, hiding in the safety of the shadows. A low rumble teased his mind, coaxing him out into the light. He fought the pull, he didn't want to go out there, out where pain waited patiently for him to emerge from hiding. But the rumble was relentless, and slowly it dragged him up, past layers of fear and anger, past rapidly changing images of the past. With a surge of adrenaline that left him struggling for breath he broke the surface. The rumble smoothed into words and with the words came recognition. Josiah, head bowed in prayer, sat by his bed waiting. The room was dark and quiet but for the gravely depths of his teammate's voice and the whoosh of the ventilator and beeping of various machines and then the strident tones of an alarm broke the peace. He blinked his eyes rapidly trying to clear his vision. He panicked at the feeling of something down his throat. His hands flailed as he tried to reach up, to remove whatever it was that was obstructing his airway. A sharp pinch in his hand added another pain to the litany of complaints his body was trying to inform him of. A squeal in his ear increased his discomfort. He gagged as his stomach churned and twisted in his belly. A heavy hand pressed his forehead down onto the pillow as Josiah tried to calm him, but JD was too far gone to register his words and touch as anything more than another source of agitation. Suddenly there was a flash of white and the room was full of swirling figures, Josiah was pulled out of the way and strangers loomed over his body like a swarm of hornets. Urgent voices called back and forth adding a cacophony to the confusion.

Josiah backed into the hall and hovered uncertainly in front of the large window. He gnawed at his lip trying to decide whether to stay put or head back to the others in the waiting room. The decision was made for him when one of the nurses spotted him and unceremoniously shut the curtain. He walked slowly down the tiled hall and stifled a sneeze as some medicinal odor trickled out into the long hallway from an empty room. He wrinkled his nose at the scent. He positively hated the smell of hospitals. It reminded him too much of his sister and all she had suffered through before her death. Goblinization was not kind to the weak minded and his father... he wrenched his mind away from that line of thought. He didn't want to think about the place his...father...had put his baby sister and the unspeakable things they had done to her to try and "cure her disease", things he hadn't been able to save her from and for that he owed an eternal penance. He thrust open the door to the waiting room harder than he had intended, and it flew back slamming into the wall with a bang. The charge nurse jumped and whirled around in her chair with a muffled oath, as she stared at him wide eyed. He shot her an apologetic glance and bowed his head sheepishly before making his way to the corner the Seventh had taken over and made theirs.

Vin and Ezra looked up from a card game they had spread out on the low table. Buck was asleep in a chair his arms crossed over his chest and his long legs stretched out in front of him blocking the pathway. Chris stood looking out the window into the night. He looked around for Nathan but the medic was missing. "Where's DT?"

Ezra put down his cards. "He went for coffee, he should be back momentarily. Is Ferret awake yet?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes, but something's wrong. They kicked me out while they are working on him. Someone should come tell us something as soon as they get him stabilized." The worry in Josiah's eyes was plain for them all to see.

"What happened?" Chris asked.

"Well," the mage said slowly. "He woke up but he seemed really out of it and I think he panicked. He was flailing around and reaching for the air tube. Then an alarm went off and the next thing I knew the room was full of people working on him and they threw me out." He shrugged helplessly. "They shut the curtain and I didn't want to wait in the hall, so I figured I could at least come tell you he's awake."

* O *

Half an hour later and there was still no sign of Nathan so Chris sent Vin and Ezra to look for him.

Vin punched the button for the elevator and waited patiently for it to arrive on their floor. The door opened and before they could enter Ezra threw out a hand to stop him.

"Look!" The shaman pointed to the faint brown stain on the floor. The elevator smelled strongly of bleach but despite the obvious clean up there was still a large wet spot on the carpet to indicate that something had happened. Ezra looked at Vin with alarm. "You don't think...?"

Vin blanched. "Shit. DT! Ace, go up and check the cafeteria. I'll head to security and see if anyone has reported some kind of incident. And Ace, watch your fucking six!"

Ezra nodded. "You, too." He stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the fourth floor.

Vin moved as quickly as he could down the hallway to the security office. He tapped on the door and waited for a security officer to answer.

The man who answered the door towered over the phys ad, standing a good six and a half feet tall. His skin was a deep ebony covered with short fine blue fur. His eyes shone in the light, a deep gold and his ears were gracefully pointed. Vin sucked in his breath. A night one, their kind was not often seen outside of the Tir nations. The elf's voice was a deep rumbling bass when he courteously asked Vin his business.

"My team is waiting in Emergency for word on an injured member and our medic went for coffee. He hasn't returned yet and when we went looking for him we saw signs of an incident in the elevator," Vin explained. "Can you tell me if a Nathanial Jeran was involved? He is about 6' 2", stocky build, African-American, has a tattoo of a medic's staff and a seven on his forearm." He stopped as the guard held up a hand.

"Sir. Do you have some form of identification? I can't just give out information to anyone. I'm sure you understand."

"Of course. And you can check with the Emergency room staff. We have been here for hours." Vin dug out his ID stick and handed it to the guard. He waited patiently while the man checked out his story and called the charge nurse. He leaned against the wall while he waited, running a hand through his hair.

The night one came back to the door, his expression serious. "Yes, sir. A man matching that description was involved in an attack. You will have to check with admissions but I believe he is already in surgery. He was stabbed several times, from what we can tell. I was just reviewing the trid right now."

Vin straightened up in alarm. "Thank you, sir. I need to get back to my team. If you need us we are in the Emergency room lobby. Here is my telecom number." He rattled the number off for the man, then turned on his heel and headed for his team. It seemed that whoever was gunning for them had somehow found them and they were being whittled down at an alarming rate. Despite the hospital rules he reached up and flipped the mic of his micro-transceiver on. '_Lobo?'_ he subvocalized. _'Someone got to DT. He was attacked in the elevator and stabbed several times. Someone found him and he's in surgery. Ace? Get back down here now.' _

'_Acknowledged.'_ Ezra said.

* O *

The five remaining teammates gathered around a table in the cafeteria and tried to make sense of the day's events. Chris paced back and forth grinding his teeth while he wracked his brain for a way to keep the rest of his team safe. The attacks had blindsided them all. Each one had been different, from the bomb in Vin's jeep to the stabbing that took Nathan out. There was no pattern that he could see that would allow him to predict where the next one would come from. And it would come, he was convinced of that. Someone was gunning for his men and for the moment he was helpless to stop it. He turned back to the table and glared at the assembled men. "As of right now, until we can figure this out, nobody goes anywhere alone," he ordered. It was a reflection of how serious the situation was that nobody, not even the fiercely independent Ezra argued with that.

"We'll split up into two-man shifts and each take eight hours. Now, we'll have to rotate partners. It'll be tough, but what are we gonna do, call Lone Star? We all know—"

"Those guys don't know their asses from third base," the rest of the team chorused with him, poking fun at something that Chris apparently said way too much around them.

Despite the severity of the situation, Chris found himself suppressing a grin. "Exactly." Whoever was gunning for them hadn't broken them yet. "So here's how this is going to go: Prophet, you and me are gonna take first watch. After, I need you to get back to the safe house and get some rest, because I'm gonna need you on third watch too with Vin."

"Alright, brother," Josiah inclined his grizzled head in acknowledgment.

"Stud and Ace, you guys are gonna take second watch. Same deal, after your shift, somebody needs to rest up and take first again with me. I don't particularly care who. Rock, Paper, Scissors, I don't give a shit. Just get it done. Keep the rotation and we should be fine."

"Pardon me, esteemed leader?" Ezra raised his hand politely like a little boy in a classroom.

"What?" Chris barked.

"While I agree that your plan is all well and good, it does pose a problem." Chris raised his eyebrows in exasperation when Ezra paused dramatically. "If we are all stretching ourselves thin at the hospital, who is going to look for the cretins responsible for this series of atrocities?"

There was a murmur of agreement and discontent as the men shifted in their seats. Finally, Buck stood up with a disgusted sound. "Hell, Lobo, Ace's right. Ain't nothin' getting done while we're all cooped up here. These guys could strike again! And we still don't have any idea who they are!" His arms flew out, punctuating his statement even more so.

"Stud…" Chris warned, sensing that they'd just reached the end of Buck's fuse, and the ticking time-bomb he'd been worried about since JD was run down in the street was going off.

"No, Lobo! Don't you 'Stud' me like I'm some little kid you just caught doin' something he ought not to be. This is fuckin' serious! Ferret could've died! DT, well thank the big guy in the sky, only had a short way to go to the O.R.! But you know they weren't intending for him to live. He was supposed to bleed out in that fuckin' elevator before anyone found him. And who's next? You, me, Falcon? Nobody knows, and we don't even know who we're supposed to be watching out for." Buck shook his head in disgust. "Take me off the watch. You'll have to cover twelve hours then, I know, but somebody's gotta start combing through the info…and I can do a whole lot more good when I'm actually being proactive instead of just sitting on my ass at the hospital, worrying."

"I don't like it—" Chris began.

"Tough shit," Buck countered, "You ain't my momma, much as you like to pretend."

Frowning, Chris continued, "But you have a point. Work from the safe house though. Keep in contact with us. I expect periodic check-ins on the hour every hour. You miss one, I'm gonna put you on a kid leash and drag your ass with me everywhere. We clear?"

Buck nodded succinctly, "Crystal." He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.

* O *

Jase could hear Corinne swearing in Sperethiel through the door. The elvish language was melodic and sophisticated and yet... He chuckled at a particularly vivid description of what she thought the hit team could do with various woodland critters. He tapped on the door and waited for her to come let him in. She flung it open with a scathing. "What the fuck do you want?"

"Nice to see you too, Revenge." He waltzed through the door and threw himself down on her surprisingly comfortable couch with a smirk. "I take it you heard about the hit on the Seventh?" He stopped as she turned and looked at him, surprise widening her eyes.

"What?! When...? Oh! I am going to fucking kill that two bit ..." she sputtered off into more Sperethiel.

Jase grinned, Corinne in a righteous tirade was a sight to behold, and man did she have a colorful and vivid imagination. She paced back and forth using her hands to punctuate her extreme displeasure. If he was translating properly it would seem that the gist of her ire was the timing of the multiple hits. When she finally ground to a halt he was waiting patiently. "Are you done?" he asked dryly.

She whirled around and pinned him to the couch with a glare. "No. I. Am. Not. How the hell am I'm supposed to fragging isolate this fragging mark if these motherless hoop humping drek baggers are fragging around, and fragging with my goddess-damned fragging fragged-up plans!?

Keeping a completely deadpan look on his face by sheer will, he quipped, "How the frag should I fragging know?"

She shot him a look of disgust. "Oh, how very helpful you are today!"

He suppressed a grin when, with that, she was off on round two of her epic hissy fit. He sat back and rested his ankle on his knee to enjoy the show.

* O *

"**If you ain't want to dead, don't born!" ~ LaRouge ~ Vodoon priest**

Buck stomped down the hallway of their safe house, his heels pounding out a staccato beat on the tiled floor. He threw open the door to Chris' office and made his way to the desk, snapping on the task light as he fell into the leather chair behind the desk. The light made a pool of brightness in the dark room. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk, dropping his head into his hands in despair. He only allowed himself a short time to sit there, then he forcibly shook off his mood and got to work. He dug out an incident report and filled it out, writing down every scrap of information he could remember from both the attack on JD and what little Falcon had found out from the hospital security about Nathan. The information was scanty, the camera had been tilted down and only caught the foot of the attacker and Nathan falling to the ground. Not near enough to go on. He hoped to God that Inez' people would be able to get more. As it was the Seventh was flying blind and things were not looking good for their survival.

* O *

Chris stood and braced himself when a grim faced doctor entered the waiting area, looked around and then headed his way.

Doctor Gracen stopped short when the others joined him. "Mr. Larsen?" Her voice was husky and tense.

He nodded. "You have word on Nathanial Jeran?"

She bowed her head for a moment and Chris felt his heart race in sudden fear. "Yes, I'm sorry, sir, but the prognosis isn't good. Mr. Jeran lost a lot of blood. He's alive and we repaired the damage but...," she paused and sighed. "If he survives it will be a miracle. I know as doctors we aren't supposed to say things like that, but you look like a man who can handle and wants the truth. I suggest you take this time to say your goodbyes and get his affairs in order."

"Thank you, Doctor for your honesty. Can we see him now?" Chris said slowly.

"Yes, but he isn't awake you understand." Her face held nothing but sympathy for the assembled men. It was easy to see what a tight knit group they were as they drew in closer together as if to ward off the news their friend was dying. She wished she had been able to give them better news, but in her opinion, the truth, no matter how unpalatable, was always better than false hope.

"Doctor," Ezra stepped up next to Chris. "Are you familiar with Dr. Marjorie Potter?"

She nodded. "Yes, she is one of my colleagues."

Ezra smiled fleetingly. "She is our primary physician. She has privileges here I believe?"

"She does." The doctor furrowed her brow wondering where the man was going with this line of questions.

"Excellent. I believe that Mr. Jeren would benefit from having a familiar voice and touch during his final hours. So may we request that Dr. Potter be assigned as his doctor?"

Her face softened at the obvious pain the men displayed at the loss of their friend and she gently replied. "Of course. I will speak with the charge nurse and have them call her right away."

"Thank you, doctor." Ezra bowed slightly as he withdrew back into the group.

* O *

When the telecom beeped Buck almost didn't answer it. He stared at the screen warily, it beeped again sounding somehow impatient. He snorted. What did he expect, it was after all Chris'. "Yeah?" He set the incident report he had been compiling aside.

"Buck. Get back to the hospital." Vin's voice was tense and clipped, drowning out the faint drawl of Tejas. "And Buck? Hurry."

Buck closed his eyes against the pain. "JD or Nathan?" He wasn't sure he really wanted to know. Either way would be devastating to the team.

"Nathan." Vin's voice was so soft he almost didn't catch it.

"On my way." _End Trans..._

* O *

He made it to the hospital in time, but only by breaking several laws along the way. Ezra waved him into the room to say his goodbyes to his longtime friend. Buck slipped into the chair beside Nathan's bedside and bowed his head in sorrow. The soft beeping of the heart monitor and the faint, stuttering intake and exhalation of Nathan's breath was the only sound that broke the stillness of the ICU room. Buck searched for words to say, some way of letting go, saying goodbye. But how do you let a loved one just slip away? He was reminded of years ago when he sat next to his mother's bed and watched as a once vibrant and vivacious woman wasted away with cancer ravaging her body. He thought at the time that he would never hurt that bad ever again. Sitting beside Nathan's bedside he discovered just how wrong he was. He couldn't let his friend go without saying something, but the words just clutched at his throat. "Nathan," he finally choked out. "I am honored that you are my friend... and my brother. Go with God." He glanced up at a sound in the doorway and saw Ezra waiting in the hallway. He stood and joined the shaman. "Have you seen him?"

Ezra shook his head. "No, I was waiting for you. I'll go now."

Buck patted him on the shoulder and left him standing hovering at the doorway as if reluctant to enter the room. He looked back and saw Ezra take a deep breath and step inside. He had just made it to the door when a strident alarm broke the silence and Dr. Potter made a mad dash from the nurses station to the ICU room. Buck stood frozen by the exit until he saw Ezra and the doctor leave the room with slumped shoulders and tear streaked faces.

"I'll pronounce him in a moment, nurse." Dr. Potter told her assistant. She waved the nurse back into the room. With a grave face she turned back to Ezra, drew him into a hug and whispered something to him. Ezra nodded and looked up to see Buck watching him with wide, stricken eyes.

Ezra closed his eyes against the pain he saw in his friend's face and shook his head slightly. He turned back and quietly said something else to the doctor before making his way down the hall to where Buck stood frozen. He wrapped an arm around the sammy and led him out the door to the waiting room.

When the team saw them approach they all stood and one by one their faces fell as they realized that Nathan was gone. For years they had been seven and now in a sudden violent moment they were six.

Across the waiting room an unassuming man watched them while fiddling with his pocket secretary. Fred concealed a slight smile of satisfaction as his kill was confirmed by their shaman. One of the seven was dead and the team was reeling with the loss. That would make the rest easier to pick off and would twist the knife deeper before his final kill. Mr. D'Agostino would be pleased. Fred closed his pocket secretary and slipped it into his pocket before walking slowly past the remaining members of the Seventh and nonchalantly strolling out the front door to the parking lot. 


End file.
